


Kashmir

by ledbythreads



Category: Led Zeppelin, Page and Plant - Fandom
Genre: 1990s, Age Difference, Anal Sex, Band Fic, Canon Compliant, Canon Timeline, Groupies, Japan, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, Love On Tour, M/M, My Favourite Husbands, Oral Sex, Page and Plant Unledded, Porn with Feelings, Rock Stars, Rock and Roll, Safer Sex, Shameless Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, True Love, Voyeurism, and then there were three, remarried!jimbert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26514325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ledbythreads/pseuds/ledbythreads
Summary: You know fan/groupie fics with Jimmy and Robert? So, this is one of those. A game of two halves.
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant, Jimmy Page/Robert Plant/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

Robert turns back into Jimmy’s suite from the balcony. Emm eyes him noncommittally while futzing with her BlackBerry. Robert nods backwards – chin towards the adjoining suite where they have been doing interviews all day.

“Send the last one home eh? He’s had more than enough.”

“He’s already started”

“But Naomi, is it? She’s not back yet, surely.”

“This one speaks English. He’s from, let me see”

Emm scans down one of the day planner sheets Jimmy insists they have comb bound with the Page Plant logo on the front.

“London”

Fuck. At least with Naomi, Jimmy has a buffer. He was about to blow up an hour ago, so this one might not last their second question. Robert turns on his heel and sweeps through the adjoining door. Already polishing his best smile. Product Jimmy. Product.

Two dark heads. Jimmy leaning forward on his loveseat. Gangly arms that are almost too long when he’s sitting like this. Elbows on his knees. Animated. Lightly flushed. Beautiful. 

The boy. The man. Mid twenties maybe. Black denim jacket pushed up his elegant arms. Soft hairs slightly raised. Leather cuff and silver bangles. They clink as he hears Robert and turns. Soft curls in his face. Indian maybe. Their body language is yin and yang. Mirroring. That’s the thing, Robert thinks. Open Jimmy up, and he always wants more. But his taste is impeccable.

“This is Nazir, Robert – he’s telling me all about Shonen Knife.”

I bet he is

“Naz Malik, from Melody Maker”

His hand is soft but firm. As Robert takes it, the boy flushes, drops his eye contact. His gaze tangling at the open neck of Robert’s slash cut shirt.

A fan.

“Freelancer?” Melody Maker doesn’t keep anyone in Tokyo.

His eyes manage to come back and meet Robert’s again.

“Sure. I write for City Limits. The Pink Paper.”

“I didn’t know the Financial Times had much of a rock following” Jimmy says.

Droll.

“It’s a gay…”

“He knows.”

“Great. Hey, let me say what a pleasure it is to meet you both…”

A good save. That accent is not from London.

“Where you from?”

Robert cuts across the guy so Jimmy gets a good view of his ass in tight jeans. Perches on the other end of the sofa so they are all three nicely triangulated. Cracks open a bottle of water. ‘Where you from?’ God, sounds like he might call him  _ son _ , and make like Jerry Lee Lewis. Fuck fuck fuck. Robert shakes his hair back from his face. Puts his smile on half-beam.

“Bradford.”

“Bantams?”

“Yeah. Wolves of course.”

“Of course. Jimmy prefers cricket.”

Jimmy prefers beautiful boys who look like him in 1977, but with better teeth.

“Ah well I’m sorry. I fail the Tebbit test. I support Pakistan or my dad would skin me alive.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He’s from Kashmir.” The guy grins. He’s stunning.

“Ah, well my geography has improved since I was your age… We have this incredible new arrangement actually. Emm will sort you out. Emm?”

“Actually Robert, thank you, but I have tickets. Tomorrow.”

“That’s ok, bring friends. Boyfriend?”

Emm sticks her head round the door.

“You rang?”

“No...boyfriend” Naz says, softly.

“Can you put Naz here down for a care package, Emm? She’s got your contacts, right? Ok we’re going to take this one easy, Emm. You get off early. You’re not in any rush, Naz?”

“No”

Robert looks over at Jimmy. Their cues are invisible to others now; unless they want them to be seen. But Jimmy is distracted. Rubbing his belly absently. Oh Jimmylove. Robert feels a rush of profound love for him all over again. Be here darling. It’s ok. It’s ok.

“How do you find Japan?”

“Intriguing, I guess. People don’t quite know what to make of me. Gajin, English, but not white. But I’m used to people not seeing what is there. You know what I mean?”

Robert does. And he understands the second question nested into the first. But it’s too soon.

“Jimmy likes it here. He was just here with Dave Coverdale”

Jimmy nods his chagrin. Moonfaced. Agreeable.

It’s getting easier to say.

“And now you are – back together. But you have never entirely been apart, right?”

“We have an open marriage.”

Maybe the slightest stumble but Naz takes the pass smoothly. A sight smile. He gets out a yellow legal pad. Like Cameron, all those years ago. But he’s not a boy. Not at all the cub reporter. He turns to Jimmy without making Robert feel the connection shift. He’s good at his job. It’s reassuring, that competence. That deft touch.

“Jimmy, what is different this time, for you?”

“I’ve wanted to work again with Robert for so long. You’re correct, we have collaborated, of course. But I felt we still had things to say, that cannot be said with others. A particular alchemy if you will.”

Naz is taking shorthand instead of using a recorder. His pencil dances over the Pitman sigils without him looking down. Arcane almost – like the girls at Swan Song who would take down G’s letters to friends in the industry, but he’d never let them record anything contractual. All done by gentleman’s agreement. Sometimes, in the most important things, it’s a person’s words that count.

“I noted you brought the influences of Wales and North Africa. Were you revisiting certain touchstones? Shared memories?”

“I’d say so. We have always been keen to incorporate the musical languages that spoke to us across time…”

“Do you feel particular places gave you certain freedoms that your other… commitments… touring so extensively and such, perhaps limited?”

Jimmy is enchanted. He can be so heartbreakingly sweet when he likes an interviewer, almost naïve. Or seeming so.

Robert crosses his legs pointedly, regaining the focus. The thread. Fey almost, and soft, to compliment Jimmy’s newly growing solidity. Jimmy returned in his glory.

“After Zeppelin, I felt a certain need to run the gauntlet, as it were, of the music business. To see who I was, alone. But Jimmy and I have been profoundly connected since I was nineteen years old. The time came for me to turn towards home. To bring him my treasures. As he has always shared his with myself.”

Robert takes a long slow drink of water and lets that sink in. Watches Naz watch him swallow. 

“You understand how that is, right. To love where you come from, but to want other things?”

“Sure. I mean I was raised on Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. But I chose to pack a kit bag and follow New Model Army and listen to The Clash and Lynton Kwesi Johnson. But we can love in many ways.” That laugh again “You…you were my dirty secret”

That smile. Like sunshine through rain.

Jimmy sees it too. And brightens.

“Well Led Zeppelin are rediscovered with each generation. Even if the punks said we were finished, they all wanted to play like Communication Breakdown”

“Sure. There was that. But I mean you… two. You and Robert”

Jimmy does that thing then. He still doesn’t know he does it, but it makes the bottom fall out of Robert’s stomach. He smiles right to his eyes and rubs across them with a fist, like a child waking from a daydream.

Jimmy always said, ‘ _ Keep a certain mystique, my love _ .’ But sometimes.

“Ask me. Something real.” Robert says suddenly, and feels the world tip.

Naz pauses. Pencil in mid-air. He looks between the two of them. A glow on him. A shimmer. Robert sees that look. The way they all look when they cross the threshold of your room, and the thing they have fantasised about is finally happening. Naz pauses as the best of them always have. Pausing for one final moment, weighing if the dream is better than this tired man taking him by the hand. Jimmy said, they must come on their own feet. Robert had this moment himself. Once. Long ago now. It has always made him compassionate to those that came to him in turn.

He opens up his body to Naz. It’s an animal thing. He was never interested in intimidation. They come with grace or not at all. Permission. That’s all it takes.

“ _Wonderful One_. You say you wrote it in minutes. That alchemy, Jimmy spoke about just now. What can you never let show, Robert?”

The pad slides from Naz’s knee. His eyes never falter.

“Do you want the interview, or the truth?”

“I want you… to show me.”


	2. Chapter 2

He has always wanted the brave ones.

Robert holds out his hand. The silver band of the ring Jimmy gave him catches the light. His smallest finger. The meaning old when Oscar Wilde wore one. Naz’s fingers are bare. Light touch in his own. He summons him. Another threshold.

“Jimmylove?” he asks.

He doesn’t need to ask.

“Yes, baby.”

He wants to ask.

Robert tangles his hand up into Naz’s hair and holds him at the nape of his neck.

They kiss.

Robert feels so sad for a moment. The nostalgia is cloying. Him and Jimmy, chaotic in their need to come together and to break apart. Using sex with other people to show again and again that nothing really matters. Then he feels Naz himself. The pulse at Naz’s throat against his thumb. The softness of his lips. The way this kiss itself is like a question. The way he is starstruck but also taking Robert’s measure. Sweet kid.

Showtime.

Robert thinks Jimmy has missed this. This taking tribute.

Maybe he has missed it himself.

However far he sailed away. Some treasure calling.

_Been a long time, been a…_

Alone. Lonely only ever by choice. His bed never empty unless he has wanted it to be.

This skinny boy. Like his Pagey was. Robert pushes the shoulders of Naz’s jacket down to feel the smooth muscles in his arms. Warm skin between the denim and his cut-off band shirt. _Southern Death Cult_. Naz doesn’t know that he can touch back yet. Robert deepens their kiss to invite it. Fingers trailing down his chest. Jimmy loved to see their hands on him. It suited his masochism and his pride. Beautiful boys that nobody would ever believe.

Naz catches his wrist. He pulls back and looks Robert in the eye.

“Show me. Please.”

Jimmy is sitting back. A pasha listening to ghazals. Songs of longing. 

Robert misses him even when Jimmy is in the same room. He has missed him so much it is like the rhythm of his days. The drone beat under every other intention. So painful. So private.

All these years and he is still waiting for Jimmy. Looking for him over his left shoulder.

The vigilance. Rarely touching him openly, as he wanted to. Only with sound.

“Pagey?”

He sounds like a kid. Like a lost lover in the dark.

Jimmy opens his hand. An old sign between them.

He goes to him and kneels between his feet. Fuck it all. What does it even matter now? Jimmy’s hands on his face like a blessing. Hands in his hair. The smell of him like home. Like ten years gone. Like yesterday morning in the bed next door. Fucking him till he cried. Robert butts blindly into Jimmy’s touch. Only this. Absolution.

Robert finds Jimmy’s mouth, kneeling up between his legs, he breaks the kiss and strips off his shirt then finds him again. Jimmy’s fingers digging in his back; unclasping his belt; pushing his jeans down below the curve of his ass. Jimmy’s hand in his chest hair, his belly hair, his bush. Making him sing. Jimmy holding him close to his chest and looking at Naz over Robert’s shoulder. His fingers trailing into the cleft of Robert’s ass.

“Ask me, baby”

“Touch me.”

“Turn round”

Robert turns and Naz’s eyes are burning. Locked onto Jimmy. Hands in his lap like he has forgotten them. Jimmy circles his hand in lower and lower circles. Hypnotic. Robert drops his head back. Feels his chest opening. Jimmy slips Robert’s cock into his hand. Rhythm hand. Fret hand thumbing his nipple. Teeth lightly against his neck. Robert opens his arms and Naz comes to him. To them both. Into the circle of their light.

Naz is kissing both of them. Hands on Robert now. Wonderingly. Exploring. Picking up the beat. Like when they work with new musicians Jimmy is prompting him, encouraging him. Making visible the things Robert knows by feel. Jimmy raises them to their feet, and they are the three muses then. Jimmy pulls Robert’s hands behind his back, Naz drops down.

His mouth is. A miracle. Slow. Confident. Intense.

Robert’s legs crossed into his iconic stance, without thinking, Jimmy pulling his arms back is bowing his chest. Jimmy’s fingers knotted through his own, whispering filth in his ear. He has missed this, he has. Vanity is his absolute weakness and Jimmy knows how to make him look like a god, even now. This is incredible. But Jimmy himself is hiding. Oh Jimmylove. All will be revealed. Robert frees his hands and pulls Naz up against him. Pushes his hair gently off his face.

“You ok?”

“Sure. Are you?” He grins

“That remains to be seen” He’s a little breathless, but he’s match fit.

Robert can feel Jimmy, hard against his ass, restless. Wondering if Robert is about to start introducing them all maybe.

Naz’s eyes flicker to Jimmy and back again. Weighing them up. He puts his hand onto Robert’s belly.

“Take me there.”

Jimmy reaches round and puts his hand over Naz’s.

“You’re not in any hurry, Jimmy?”

Jimmy doesn’t answer but walks to his own suite without looking back. He looks taller.

Jimmy sits cross legged in the middle of the bed. Watching. They strip for him. Naz’s arms are unmarked, but in the places his clothes can easily hide he is inked. Over his heart, a compass. On his thigh, England’s three lions. On his chest what looks like poetry, in a script Robert cannot read. On the soft skin of his left side; their four symbols. Robert sighs as he touches John’s circles. Hello mate.

Beneath the compass, Robert traces the names.

_Layla 1990_

“My daughter”

_Justin 1968 – 1993_

“My man”

“I’m sorry”

“Me too”

“You ok?”

“That remains to be seen” Naz kisses him again, arms tangled round his neck, and Robert feels it somehow. A connection. He pulls Naz full body against him. He smells of CK number one, and neon streets, and salt. They climb onto the bed and over Jimmy like a wave. 

For a time, they are just a tangle of limbs and needs and memories. Robert watches Jimmy become real to Naz. His shyness. His need for control and having it broken. Naz undresses him. Straddles him. They are yin and yang again. Crotch to crotch. Jimmy’s hands on Naz’s hips. Skinny boy. Naz matching Jimmy move for move. Hair falling in his face. Jimmy’s fingers in Naz’s mouth. It’s almost too much, but it isn’t.

“Nazir” Jimmy doesn’t like diminutives. Naz opens his eyes.

“I want Robert to fuck you. Can you do that for me?”

“Unnh” Naz nods

“Ask him”

Robert smiles. Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy.

Naz laughs. Not at Jimmy. At life.

“Robert” he deadpans “this is certainly not the first time I have said this out loud. But it is the first time you were actually present. Robert. Please. Fuck me.”

“Jimmylove. Kids these days, eh?”

“No respect for tradition”

Jimmy’s amused. Charmed. Naz is very fucking charming.

It’s better this way. Softer. No avoiding the roadies. No Richard putting the fear of god in them afterwards. No awe. Just admiration, both ways.

“Let me get dressed then” Robert says

“Let me help with that”

Naz grabs condoms and some liquid silk from his jacket. Kisses Jimmy deep and slow, and bites the pack open with his teeth. He dresses Robert slowly then settles back against Jimmy’s thighs where he has sprawled against the headboard. Robert goes to use his fingers but Naz shakes his head.

“I’ve waited since I was fifteen. Let me just feel it.”

One leg crooked back and one round his waist Naz takes Robert. It’s really nice, really fucking nice. His flat stomach tensing. The soft hairs low across his chest and thighs so unlike Jimmy’s. Sort of companionable. Kind of a relief.

Naz is panting a little now, his eyes on fire.

“Is this what you wanted?” Robert realises Naz is speaking to Jimmy. “Or do you want… to make it… more interesting?”

Jimmy says nothing but pulls Naz’s head back by his hair.

“He can be… rougher… ask him”

“Robert” Jimmy’s voice catches “Please”

This feels all kinds of twisted. Fuck.

“Turn round”

Robert pulls out and flips Naz over. Pulls him up by his hips onto all fours. Waits for him to rock back and fucks him hard. Naz gasps and goes down like he’s praying. Huffing with each slap of flesh on flesh.

“More. Fuck. Robert. Oh Fuck”

Robert digs his fingers in to Naz’s hips to leave marks. Keepsakes.

Jimmy is slouched back with is knees drawn up. Looking at Robert and Naz from between them. He looks so young suddenly. He goes to palm himself and Robert shakes his head. Snakes his hips. Mouths ‘No’ and fucks Naz harder. Robert pulls Naz up like a ragdoll, one arm across his chest, showing off his biceps. Robert knows Jimmy wants to touch himself. Wants Robert to make him stop. Robert holds Naz’s balls. Fucking him shallow now, angling to find his sweet spot. And then he does, and Naz is laughing again, in wonderment. Robert walks them forward with each thrust till they are right between Jimmy’s thighs, and when he sees Jimmy’s legs start to shake, he curls his mic hand round Naz’s beautiful cock and starts to work him. Jimmy’s eyes are like saucers, fingers white and knotted in the sheet. Naz is shiny with sweat. Slipping in Robert’s tight grip. Robert twists to kiss him, catching his moans. Fire in his belly. Grateful that age and condoms are slowing him down. He lets Naz fall forward onto his hands, so he is arched over Jimmy’s chest.

“Hold him down.”

Jimmy’s eyes roll back as Naz grabs and pins his forearms, splays his thighs with his knees. Robert can see his face, in and out of focus as Naz’s curls get in the way. Robert pushes Naz’s head down with a soft hand in his hair.

“Honey. Stay with me honey. Jimmy. Stay”

“Fuck. Baby I… baby I”

“I know. Stay.”

Robert rakes his nails down Naz’s back. Feels him shudder. Getting somewhere deeper now. Robert curls to Naz’s back. Sweat on sweat. Taking his weight on his right arm now so he can lavish attention on Naz’s cock. Robert loves this. The rock and roll of it. Loves finding out what someone needs. He takes his time till he feels it. That shift.

“That’s right sweetheart. Can you come for me soon?”

“uhuh”

“Say it”

“Uh. Yeah. Uh, you’re gonna make me come.” Naz can only gasp out the words but he still sounds kind of amused.

“Honey”

Robert catches Jimmy’s gaze

“beg me.”

Jimmy gives Robert a spiteful ‘not in front of company’ glare. Then bites his lip hard.

Robert slows right down. Feels Naz push back against him, squirming for more.

“Jimmy. Honey. Ask for what you want.”

Robert hauls Naz back upright. Watches Jimmy eat him up with his eyes. He can’t keep this up much longer. Naz pushes his hair out of his face. Snakes his hand down to rest over Robert’s.

Robert calls to Jimmy with his eyes. Let go let go let go.

“I want… please. Make him… come on me. Oh god.”

Jimmy is blushing scarlet. But he can’t stop looking.

“Touch yourself. Show me.”

Jimmy is starting to shake all over. Just a light tremor.

It’s hard to edge someone he doesn’t know, but Naz is guiding with his hand. When he needs Robert to ease off, he shows him. They are all in sync. All in tune. When Jimmy starts to twist his hand the way he does, and the soft blush creeps across his chest, Robert pushes. Takes Naz over the edge.

“Come for me” He pleads.

He means it for Jimmy “My one. My only one”

It’s not simultaneous, but it’s a crescendo. Naz comes over Jimmy’s belly and his hand. He doesn’t sing out. He holds his pleasure deep. But he shudders and clutches at Robert to stay upright. Jimmy makes a sort of strangled sound and to Robert it looks like he comes in slow motion. Back arched. Neck twisting. Head banging back against the headboard.

Robert doesn’t want to come. Wants to save himself for Jimmy. Wants to give him that at least. But he can’t. He can’t. He is falling apart watching Jimmy unravel. He wants to hold him. But he has Naz in his arms. A beautiful sweating tousled mess. He cries out as he loses it. As he always has. The song he sings for his siren. 

It doesn’t end how Robert thought it would. He’s always been a romantic and he can make people into myths instead of who they are. He lies with Jimmy in his arms and they both want Naz to stay. Naz leans on Jimmy’s hip, sharing his cigarettes. They used to send people away so they could lose themselves in each other. It doesn’t seem to matter so much anymore.

“I heard the tape of Tori Amos giving you a roasting” Naz quips. Long lashes making it softer.

“Yeah?” Robert is not sure where this is going, but he’s too fucked out to really care.

“She’s talking crap. Real is better.”

“Well, she never had the pleasure of us both.”

“It’s always, well, fucking people who are married can be a drag. But you two. You’re not like you are performing. I mean you are, like all the call and response you like, but… this was better.”

“You’re very kind, Nazir. I usually leave the journalists to Robert.”

“He’s got a silver tongue, for sure.”

“Perhaps if you stay a little longer, we can persuade him to demonstrate.”

“Jimmylove, you made a joke.”

“I’m not joking, baby.”

“Naz? are you ready for the encore then?”

“What? I’m in the band now.”

“I guess, sure, why not?”

“My Shangri-la?”

“Something like that”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing about Tori Amos is anachronistic as it was in her set in 1995 I think and this fic is 1994. I'm not sure when she and Robert were lovers, but basically she did part of her cabaret style set about how taking him to bed couldn't match up to her childhood sexual fantasies about him. I always felt this was her story to tell, and I love her, but I wanted Naz to have a very different experience.

**Author's Note:**

> Naomi the interpreter who isn't even in this, is named for Naomi Tamura the singer. Emm is made up, but based ever so vaguely on Nicola Powell RP's IRL manager circa 2020. 
> 
> Naz is just himself, but he is named for the lines in Ziggy Stardust by Bowie 'He was the Naz, with god given ass' - when I asked in if he was happy to be used a disposable plot device he said he's heard good things about what Robert was like in bed from OFC woman-who-has-a-name-but-jimmy-doesn't-know-it. Naz just asked me to be as minimally racist as I could manage as a white writer making up an OMC of Colour. If you want to speak on his behalf as a Reader of Colour I'm happy to hear. 
> 
> I live in a city where lots of people, Like Naz's dad, grew up in Kashmir. There is very little if any desert.


End file.
